The Nameless Warrior
by Nimarah
Summary: Meet a nameless lupe who searches to make himself recognized, in spite of never being named. Rated PG for graphic battle scenes.


When she found the sleeping lupe on the doorstep, the first thought that crossed her mind was, _What sort of joke is this?_. Her second thought was of the magical project she had been working on, that needed other objects. Objects she rarely got; who in their sane mind would travel to her dark cloud and do quests for her? The pitiful few who did could not accumulate the mass she needed. A new servant would come in handy.

The lupe was very small and very young, she decided. Very young indeed; perhaps it had been abandoned. All the better, for then no master or friend would travel after the sorry lump to learn of its health or whereabouts. Looking down at the red fur – _mangy_ red fur, further proof it was not wanted from wherever it came from – she made up her mind. However the lupe came upon her cloud, she would not let it leave.

He brought back the Black Satin Collar and placed it before her. "Here," he muttered, the challenging growl threatening to surface.

"Good boy. Sit there a minute. I may have something else for you to do." Jhudora turned away from the red lupe and took the collar. Muttering a few words, calling up on the reserves of power, she placed it into a box and waved a hand. A purplish-black cloud puffed upwards from the box, and she smiled cruelly to herself.

He slunk away and disappeared into the winding passageways of her castle. He knew it better than Jhudora herself, and frequently he could escape her "tender" administrations by losing himself in the darkened halls. Often he had stumbled across books and other objects, items his mistress had long forgotten, and would take small pleasure in glancing at the pictures in the books and batting about the other things. Pouncing always gave him a small thrill of anticipation and adrenaline; sometimes, he could just remember a soft voice, a ball, a throw, a chase . . .

And then he would land, lightly, so as not to attract any attention with undue noise, and the memory would dissipate, and cold reality seeped back in. Today, though, he did not go wander. He knew where he wanted to go. Padding into one of the two rooms he had found the most interesting to experiment with the contents; a room with various swords and weaponry. Books that he had gathered from around the castle, any and every one he could find with a sword within the pages, lay around on the floor and showed pets using them, sticking them into other people and wielding them with heroic skill. Imitating the pictures, thrusting the swords with all the rage and hatred he felt towards his life and the world in general, he practiced in the secluded room. Dodging, leaping, twisting, turning, he had no concept of levels or abilities other than what Jhudora had infused in him – whether they were willingly accepted or forced upon him. He only knew the brief release of his mundane, fearful existence, the transition into dreams about becoming someone that the world would know. A hero, like those in the books that afforded him a release of the pain-filled life he led. A hero that would be respected, would be awed, and maybe, maybe, liked.

"Lupe!"

He heard the call, the dreadful beckon from dream to wary alertness that he could not ignore without terrible consequences. Consequences he'd experienced often before, for various reasons from not coming fast enough to being in Jhudora's sight when she was angry. Carefully putting the sword up, he scampered down the stairs and through the secret door, under the wooden table and up the short flight of stairs before arriving at the workroom.

"You called," he mumbled.

Jhudora turned and looked him over. "Humph. I need you to go to this house and take the earth spell book. You have," she glanced at the table, at the bubbling cauldron, "ten minutes."

Baring his teeth in anger, he scurried out of the castle and into Faerieland. People strolled down the streets with their pets, and for a precious second he allowed himself to feel a burst of jealousy and resentment before he thought back to the brief picture she had shown him; he was illiterate, Jhudora not caring how intelligent he was or not. A large house, constructed of mostly silver, though a room of cloud and gold also sat on the lower floor. Thinking hard, he recalled one such house that fit that description, down a street where more of the wealthier owners lived. If he cut through the garden of that house, under the fence of that one, and then across that street, he should be there. Imagining all the horrible punishments he'd be given if he did not return in time, he quickly followed the trail he mentally plotted and dashed into the garden of the specified house.

Six more minutes. He crept though a window and into the house, praying that no one was in. He was skilled in the art of thievery for the quests he was sent on cost money, and Jhudora never gave him the money to do so. Jhudora also jumped at the chance to send him to a specific glade in Meridell to pilfer various items such as cookies, shakes, plants, books, weaponry, and clothing. Why, he didn't know. He didn't care – if it kept her busy with her spells and caught her interest, he was left alone for a much longer space of time. A goal he continuously tried to reach.

Finally! His eyes lit upon a book like the one in the picture she had showed him, sitting on a shelf with other books. Snatching it up, he dashed towards the window only to hear the dreaded sound of footsteps. Hastily, he hid in the shadows like Jhudora had taught him (beat into him, more like), and cowered as a fairy ixi stepped into the room.

The ixi glanced at the bookshelf and blinked a moment. "Funny," he muttered to himself, clopping over to the shelves. "I could've sworn that Dhiibshowl had an Earth Spell book." Glancing up at the wall above the books, he murmured, "No events _I_ can see."

The lupe took the chance to dodge towards the window, only to be knocked backwards by the ixi. "Ah-ha!" it cried, towering above him. "You have our book, don't you? What's your name? Why are you here?"

_Only three more minutes left_, the lupe thought, panicking. Desperately, he leaped forward and, surprising the ixi, knocked it backwards.

"Whoa!" The ixi scrambled to its feet even as the lupe disappeared over the windowsill. Not one to give up, the ixi followed without hesitation, trailing the lupe through the busy streets of Faerieland until he stopped in dead surprise, watching the rangy red lupe scamper into Jhudora's castle.

"Jhudora?" the ixi said in puzzlement. "I thought her quests were buyable. Why steal . . . ?"

The lupe dashed into the workroom, placing the book by her feet. "Here," he panted.

"Hmm. Just in time. You cut it close." Jhudora picked it up and glanced at the cover. "Slowing down?"

He squared his shoulders. "It's here," he mumbled.

"Huh." She turned away from him, to her Book of Spells.

Gathering up his courage, he cleared his throat. "Mistress?" he hedged.

Surprised, Jhudora turned to him. "You address me?" she asked. Looking over the quivering form, she smiled lazily – not a good sign. "What do you want, boy?"

"I – I would like to know what my name is, mistress," he whispered.

For a moment, she sat there, staring at him with shock and growing amusement, seeing an opportunity to grind him under her heel even more. Finally, she leaned forward, making the lupe cower back farther. "You have no name," she hissed, her words cutting the lupe to the bone. "You were abandoned upon my door; no one even cared if you ended up at my castle. No one cared enough to check on your well-being, to see if you were happy. But I have taken care of you, fed you, taught you, for two years. You have no name. You have no family. Because you have no use. No importance. Only those who have worth get names."

Trying to blink away tears, trying hard not to show weakness, he managed to say, "As you say, mistress."

And he scampered away into the shadows, curling himself into the only room with a window. Only then did he release the tears that scorched his face, burnt his soul, and tore out of his eyes. Only then did he whimper and sob to himself; not loudly, never loudly, for that would bring Jhudora, and she would punish him for showing weakness, for being what she did not want him to be.

Meanwhile, a determined ixi scoured the streets for clues to a ratty, thin, underfed red lupe living with the feared Jhudora.

-

Weeks later, the ixi's efforts were rewarded when he saw a thin, scraggly, red form slip out of Faerie Foods and dash towards the dark castle. Determinedly, the ixi chased him through the throngs of people. The little lupe was amazingly fast, but he was not one to give up. Finally, he managed to bowl the red lightning bolt over from behind.

"Gotcha!" he yelled triumphantly, pinning the lupe and flipping him over to stare down at him. "Hah!"

The lupe fell, surprised, and the ixi could feel fragile rib bones under the scruffy hide. But the ixi did not get up, did not let the lupe squirm free, no matter how pitiful it was.

"Let me go!" The lupe's voice was surprisingly harsh and raspy, and it looked as if it had been in a fight recently. A fight it had lost – badly.

"I'm not letting you go until you explain why you took our book!" the ixi declared angrily.

When the lupe realized he was not going to get free, he snarled angrily, "I only have a minute left; let me go!"

"Jhudora's quests can be found by the shop wizard! Why did you have to steal? Who are you? Have any family? Who's your owner?"

The ixi got the shock of his life when the lupe spat, "Jhudora is my owner."

So astonished was the ixi that the lupe managed to knock him off and scampered off towards the castle. Sitting where he had fallen, the ixi considered the lupe's words before running home.

"Hey, Dhiibshowl?"

His owner turned around, glanced at him. "Where have you been, ZipStreamer? I wanted to take you to Coltzan's Shrine –"

ZipStreamer shook his head, cutting off Dhiibshowl. "Can Jhudora own pets?"

Taken aback, Dhiibshowl blinked at ZipStreamer before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so. She can have pets do quests for her – you haven't been there, have you?" he asked suddenly, giving ZipStreamer a stern look.

"No, but a lupe's living with her, and he claims she owns him." ZipStreamer sat down and poked at the clockwork wocky that needed new batteries or something – it was moving decidedly slower today.

"What's his name? I'll search for him, look him up in the Neopia Pet Registers." Dhiibshowl placed a strawberry trifle before his one and only pet before looking up at a passing event. "Darn ghosts," he muttered under his breath.

ZipStreamer looked up from his food briefly. "How much they take this time?"

"Only 50 neopoints."

ZipStreamer shrugged and went back to eating. "I don't know his name, but I do know that he does quests –" _by robbing people,_ he thought, "– for her."

"See if you can get his name, alright? I've gotta log out right now. You stay close to home; I should be back and then we'll play ShapeShifter."

"Yes!!" ZipStreamer fairly danced with joy; it had been at least a month since their last game (getting the avatar, of course that's the only thing Dhiibshowl thinks about) and ZipStreamer loved the challenging puzzles.

Dhiibshowl left, and ZipStreamer glanced at the forbidding castle. Who would leave a pet with horrid Jhudora?

A very bad owner, he decided. That lupe needed friends, people who cared for him. And ZipStreamer was determined to be one of them.

"Cut it close again," Jhudora murmured. "Perhaps I should teach you to move faster."

"No, mistress," he mumbled, not wanting to beg and yet, not wanting to get punished. "I did get it to you."

She looked closely at him, eyes intense on his face. "Are you being impertinent, my lupe?"

"No," he said hastily, trying to sidestep her anger. "Merely pointing out that I completed what you asked me to do within your time limit."

Her eyes narrowed, and he realized that by trying to justify his actions, he had just made her angrier. Cowering, he tried to move away, but she allowed him no such release.

Hours later, he crept away from her workroom – she had forgotten about him and turned to another one of her projects – and laid down under the window, nursing his hurts and trying to ignore the screaming pain in his limbs. That had been one of the worst punishments he had gone through. Snarling, he tried to find a position he could lie in that would not make his body shriek in protest.

When he managed a tentative pose that wasn't as agonizing as some of the others, he thought over the events of the day. Why had that ixi found him? Was he actually looking for him?

Was it possible someone . . . _cared_ about him?

He went to sleep feeling the first genuine bit of happiness he felt for a long time.

The next day, when he was summoned to find a cornupper, he moved at lightning speed to find it long before his time would run out, and, in returning to the castle, he passed by the ixi's house purposely. Glancing around, slowing down, he peered into a window and looked around for the ixi.

"Who _are_ you?"

He leapt into the air, startled, to see the ixi behind him. Watching him warily, he said, "I'm me."

"Do you have a name? My name's ZipStreamer."

"No," he said shortly, trying to ignore the echo of Jhudora's words that resounded through his mind.

ZipStreamer looked at him carefully, realizing he had touched a sore spot. "Well, I have to call you something," he said to the lupe logically.

The lupe moved uneasily. "I have to get back to the castle," he said, well aware of the seconds that slipped away in a continuous stream.

"Can I go with you? Like, walk up to the cloud ships with you?" ZipStreamer began to walk without waiting for his answer. Stunned, the lupe hurried to catch up with the fairy ixi.

"So, where do you live?" ZipStreamer asked, looking at the sack on his back.

Looking puzzled, he said, "The castle. Where else?"

"Ah. How much time do you have left?"

The lupe reached into his mind, where his internal clock ticked. "A minute and forty-one seconds."

"What do you do all day, quests?"

"Well, yeah . . . if she wants me to," the lupe answered, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

ZipStreamer stood on the dock – the ships were manageable by two people, but often one was an owner, and another was their pet. Pets were generally not skilled in maneuvering the small ships that ferried owners and pets from cloud to cloud or Faerieland to Neopia Central. "Who gets us across?" he asked.

"Y – You're coming with me to the castle?" the lupe asked, both strangely happy and fearful.

ZipStreamer made a face. "No. Dhiibshowl doesn't like me doing her quests, since they cost a lot and she doesn't give out very good rewards. Doesn't want me anywhere near there."

"Oh." The lupe glanced sidelong at ZipStreamer. "I need to go now."

ZipStreamer looked around. "Who'll get you across?" he questioned, bewildered.

The lupe made a motion. "I can do it myself." After a pause – _precious seconds wasting, hurry up and say it!_ – he said softly, "Thank you, ZipStreamer."

ZipStreamer beamed. "Will I be able to see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe," the lupe said before he and ZipStreamer parted ways.

But weeks went by before they finally ran into each other again; the ixi was now Darigan.

The lupe – nearly out of time – did not take time to slow down, but panted as he ran for the docks, "What happened to you?"

"Huh?" ZipStreamer wheezed; he was having a hard time keeping up with the lupe. "Oh, that was the lab ray. Stupid thing. I want to be Island."

At the docks, the lupe still did not slow, instead dodging towards an amazingly small and rickety ship and leaping in. "You should go," he panted as he began to work the mixture of machinery and magic. Admittedly, he did it awkwardly, but he actually managed to get it moving at a fairly fast rate.

ZipStreamer skidded to a stop before he fell – it was a _long_ way down! – and gazed in frank admiration of the lupe, who disappeared into the dark shadows of Jhudora's castle.

Quickly, the lupe tied up the boat and leapt onto the spongy cloud surface. Darting into the huge gates and up the pathway, he winced. He wouldn't be able to make it in the ten seconds left; he still had to wrestle open the huge, heavy front doors.

When he finally managed to get before her, she eyed him angrily.

"Twenty-nine seconds late," she whispered.

He deposited the cornupper before her and flinched as she reached forward and gripped his ear – the one she had hung him from yesterday for not moving fast enough out of her sight. Wincing, he closed his eyes and awaited the punishment that was not long in coming.

Later that night, he lay upon the cold dungeon floor – unable to move from pain – he dreamed of escaping.

-

"Why don't you leave her?" ZipStreamer panted as they dashed once again towards the docks.

The lupe considered this as he skidded on the wood and jumped into the boat. "I don't know," he said, rushing his words together, moving levers. "She would look for me."

"Go to Fyora or Illusen," ZipStreamer suggested, limbs trembling from the previous exertion. He needed to get into shape; good thing Dhiibshowl was taking him to the Training School tomorrow. "Or the Water Faerie at Healing Springs, or the Neopia Registers. Once you're registered with a name, you'll be in the pound or have an owner." His voice had steadily risen so that he could make himself heard over the distance.

The lupe heard but could not even make an acknowledging gesture as he leaped out of the ship, snatched the bundle, and dashed towards the gates – he was almost out of time. If he hurried, he could _just_ make it in time –

_POOF!_

Something has happened! A ghost cackles insanely and steals your Mint Chocolate Wocky!

His mouth fell open in astonishment and misery. Now he wouldn't just be late, he wouldn't have the item she wanted!

Dejectedly, he made his way towards the castle, not even bothering to hurry. She was going to punish him already, so soon after the last time. He recalled the dungeon, her laughs, the unceasing pain. Hunching down in despair, he tried to ignore the images that had painted his life so bleakly . . . Then, in a flash, he reheard ZipStreamer's words:

_Why don't you leave her?_

He thought it over, slowing his steps until he gradually stopped moving altogether. If he went back, he would be beaten –_ again –_ and then be sent out on another quest, his life an unending cycle. If he decided to leave, it would at least throw a little change into the system, if not rescuing him completely from Jhudora's clutches. What did he have to lose? – he was going to be beaten anyway. Might as well try to escape while the punishment was assured either way.

Well, if he was going, he should go now; he had twenty-four seconds before she noticed he was missing, and he could be back in Faerieland by then and might be able to make it to the Faerie Quest building. Surely there would be at least one faerie there that would help him . . .

He dashed back to the boat and brought it back across as fast as he could – twenty seconds right there. Running through the streets, bumping through the mass of people – all of whom disliked that intensely and shouted after him – he made it into Faerie city, passed Faerie Foods, and ducked into the Faerie Quest building.

Inside, it was quiet and peaceful, except for an extremely busy-looking light faerie that barely looked up as he entered, rustling papers and making the scratching noises of a quill on parchment. Only when did he clear his throat uncomfortably did she glance at up him. Quickly looking him over, and then consulting a large stack of papers and a list, she frowned in confusion. "We didn't give you a quest, young . . . lupe. You need to leave, and wait to be summoned."

"Where's Queen Fyora?" he panted, conscious of the passing time. Jhudora would've noticed his absence by now. "I need to talk to her."

The faerie glared severely at him, trying to write all the while. "If you go into her Quest room, you better have a good reason. She's in the midst of sorting out a quarrel and will not welcome interruptions. And I'm dreadfully busy; why don't you come back in twenty minutes or so, and see if I can help you then."

He shrank back from the forbidding tone of voice, even as an owner appeared with a Kacheek and placed a Sun Hat on the desk.

The light faerie, looking more than a little harried, put the paper stacks she had been holding down and glanced at the list once more. "Orlandoluvergrl01, she's waiting for you in that room, not here," she sighed.

The girl, blushing slightly in embarrassment, walked into the indicated room and closed the door behind her. Grumbling under her breath, the light faerie turned to look at him in exasperation. "Oh, what's the matter? What do you need?"

All the lupe knew was that when Jhudora sounded exasperated, you did not try at all to answer; you dropped the subject and made a hasty exit, hoping against hope she didn't summon you back to punish you. Quickly, he dashed out of the building and looked around at the huge palace. Should he try to enter Fyora's castle?

There was an ominous rumble from Jhudora's palace, and he immediately decided that chancing it was his best option right now; the Healing Springs were too close to Jhudora's citadel. Dashing up to the gate, he looked at the zafara guards.

They glared at him from under their armor, and he shrank back. "I need to talk to Queen Fyora," he whispered.

The guard on the left snorted. "Get in line. Everyone always needs to." His armor had quickly heated up in the noonday sun, and his temper was exceedingly short. The other guard did not even take notice of him.

Desperate, frightened, running out of options, and more than a little tired, he briefly entertained the idea about seeking refuge from Jhudora at ZipStreamer's house. But he didn't want Jhudora's anger unleashed on the friendly ixi, either.

Bleak despair settled over him, shrouding him in its cloak. There wasn't anywhere left to go. Nowhere left to turn. His call of help had been denied, and he'd been sentenced to stay with his cruel master.

Something angry and defiant flickered within his heart, and resolutely he stood. No. He had run with the intention of finding safety, and he would find it. Daring death and Jhudora's eye, he cautiously made his way back, trying to stay inconspicuous, to his ship.

So far, so good; she hadn't noticed him yet. He got in it and quickly made his way towards Neopia Central; he knew the Soup Faerie, who often gave him short meals when he dropped in on a quest. She might tell him where Illusen was.

But that was when his luck ran out; Jhudora noticed him a mere forty seconds from his destination: Neopia Central.

"He's running away?!" she shrieked angrily, making the very walls and earth tremble with her anger. Rumbling filled the air, and a sick-looking purple light began to glow around her hands. "He's deserting _me_??!!" Frothing in anger, screeching so loud all of Faerieland heard her, she hurled a spell towards his boat, exploding it in a flash of purple and yellow, sending it down to the plains of Meridell.

"That will teach _him_!" she screamed in her anger, and set about conjuring up the very worst thunderstorm she could fashion to unleash upon Faerieland and every land around it.

The red lupe staggered away from the still-burning wreckage, managing to move away from the smoking ruins before collapsing. Balthazar eyed the pup; he was most definitely the scruffiest, scraggliest, most pitiful lump of skin and bones that Balthazar had ever seen. Padding stealthily over to the form, he sniffed it and eyed the ship. It came from Faerieland, and for a moment he entertained the idea of torturing the red fur ball since it might be in cahoots with the Faeries, but the years of capturing faeries and dealing with their magics had taught him to recognize a spell. This lupe had been blasted from the sky by a faerie, no doubt.

About to leave, Balthazar noticed the lupe had awakened and was looking at him weakly. Assuming a gruff and intimidating tone, Balthazar snarled, "Who are you?"

The pup flinched automatically, as if expecting a blow, and attempted to answer, but couldn't get more than a whimper out of its throat. Balthazar was suddenly transported back to his youth, lying on the floor, faeries surrounding him . . .

Grumbling under his breath, he slung the lupe onto his back and wasn't at all surprised to find the lupe barely weighed more than the sack he already carried. Muttering to himself about becoming soft in his old age, he left the plains outside of Meridell to slink into the dense forests of the Haunted Forest, taking the young one to his den.

There, in the middle of the Haunted Woods, amidst the shelves of faeries and sacks – he had never been good at housekeeping or such other nonsense – he nursed the small thing back to life and took him under his care. The fur ball listened almost instantaneously to any order given, and soon thrived, grew stronger, and lost some of his scruffy look. Though very scrawny and weak, the pup was amazingly fast and had the ability to blend in with the shadows and hide from sight. Balthazar did not particularly care for the companionship, but with the pup working alongside him, he could catch nearly two times the amount of faeries he had been able to catch before.

Yes, the pup was a good one.

-

ZipStreamer, now an Island Eyrie, stood forlornly by the docks. His owner, Dhiibshowl, stood beside him.

"Maybe he got free," Dhiibshowl suggested.

ZipStreamer shook his head. "Then he would've come and visited me. You are keeping an eye out in the Registers, right?"

"Yes."

They stood in silence, gazing at the dark castle that dared them to come closer. Finally, Dhiibshowl sighed.

"Well, all we can do is hope for the best," he told ZipStreamer before returning to their house.

ZipStreamer grudgingly took his gaze from the cloud and sighed. "It's been two months," he whispered to himself. "Where did you go?"

Balthazar returned to his den and noticed that his young charge – still nameless, which was nice and simple like Balthazar liked – had returned and was napping. His coat shone a bit more, was a bit healthier now that he was getting better meals. Newly formed muscles from sparring rippled underneath the red fur.

"Boy," Balthazar grunted.

The lupe jumped awake, instantly alert, an instinct that Balthazar approved of. He blinked a minute and sat up. Still a small, runty pup, he nevertheless had grown broader in chest and had taken to Balthazar's lessons with a ferocious intensity that had surprised his mentor. Balthazar could see he still didn't approve of catching and selling faeries, but since the pup never voiced any objections, he really didn't care what thoughts roamed through that red head.

"How many'd you get?" he asked.

"Ten." The pup poked at his bag.

"Good," Balthazar said. "You hungry?" A pointless question, really; the pup had hit a growth spurt of some kind and now was perpetually hungry no matter how soon he had last eaten. Thankfully, the pup had learned to roam the world and found his own pickings, so Balthazar didn't have to worry about keeping a stash of food in the den.

"Yep."

Balthazar humphed to himself and dug in his bag. "Found this in the Desert. Shouldn't be that bad."

The pup took it eagerly and scarfed if down, another habit that Balthazar suspected came from a previous home in which he was not given enough food. Turning to his own bag, he lined the shelves with the bottles he had filled.

"We'll need new bottles. When you go out again, keep an eye out."

Nodding his head – his mouth was full of food – the pup watched him line up the bottles. When he had swallowed, he told Balthazar, "Another village in Meridell got raided."

Balthazar snorted. "I know. I've been offered a position in Kass's army."

The pup kept silent. Balthazar glanced at him. "What're you thinking?" he asked.

"Whether or not you'll agree." The pup glanced at him sideways – he never met _anyone's_ eyes, for any reason.

Balthazar grunted. "I haven't had a Battledome challenger for a long while. Haven't seen anyone worth inviting."

Still, the pup remained silent.

Grumbling about annoying pups, Balthazar turned around. "Yes, I'm thinking about agreeing. The pay's good."

The pup wrinkled his nose but offered no protest. Balthazar could tell that the pup disliked the idea, but he didn't care what the pup thought.

"Go, wander around a bit." Balthazar turned back to his bottles.

The red lupe entered Neopia Central and glanced around. As always, it was busy, people milling about with their pets. The slight pang of jealously kicked in, like normal, but he ignored it to slip into a ship heading towards Mystery Island. Hiding under a seat on which a boy sat with his shoyru, he listened into various conversations:

"– don't really like her."

The shoyru sighed noisily. "_I_ don't care. You're only complaining about her 'cause she rated your shop a 1/10. And you've already told me how cool _her_ shop looks –"

"But she _could've_ been a little nicer."

The boat stopped moving and people rose to disembark.

"Maybe she's being truthful in her opinion. She doesn't have any reason to dislike you." The shoyru paused. "You have the right codestone _this_ time, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do. I still don't like her."

The voices grew fainter and he poked his head out. All clear. Slinking through the shadows, he leapt quietly down onto the shore of Mystery Island and melted into the forest, heading towards the Training School.

From trips made often before, he knew a small, barely used path that would allow him to sneak close enough to watch the students train and not be noticed. Balthazar's lessons and the abilities Jhudora had given him helped him immensely, and he soon situated himself and watched the sensei teach the various pets.

A chill crept over him, and he whipped around to stare into ghostly eyes. Mouth agape, he leapt sideways, into the bushes, and stared in shock and surprise at a huge ghost lupe.

"Who are you?" the ghostly form asked; the voice echoed oddly, as if the speaker was at the end of a long tunnel.

Gathering as much courage as he could, he whispered, "I have no name."

The ghost peered down at him. "Why do you come here so often?" it asked instead.

"I – I like to watch the students train," he mumbled, plastering himself to the ground and inching away.

"Why do you watch them train?"

"To learn," he muttered, apprehension starting to wane.

A long silence followed, and after ten minutes, the lupe looked up at the ghost. Floating serenely, the ghost still gazed at him with an inscrutable expression on its transparent features. Finally, it said, "I could teach you if you so desire it."

The lupe sat up in surprise, eyes wide. "You – you would? You – you really would?"

The ghost looked at him disdainfully. "I have said so already, have I not?"

The lupe sunk back down respectfully. "Yes sir," he said in a subdued voice. "I would like that very much, sir."

"Then follow."

The ghost suddenly left, and the lupe scrambled to his feet and chased after him. Turning a corner, he came face to face with a huge cavern. Poking his head in, he saw the luminescent shape in the back of the cave.

"Come forward, take up the sword. The first step to becoming a warrior is not of the training of the body, but the training of the mind."

Lord Kass's attack on Meridell was on the lips and tongues of everyone; it only drove the red lupe mad with boredom. Living close to the action, seeing the bodies of dead pets, smelling the stench of death, scouring the field for survivors, had seriously disturbed him, and he hated the way that those around him talked so casually about it. Balthazar had parted ways with him earlier – while he had not officially joined Kass's troops, he did take part of the spoils from the towns. Of the late, he had been staying in Tyrannia; he stayed in the Lair of the Beast, since it really didn't care as long as he didn't travel all the way down the tunnel.

But he had gotten truly fed up with all of it; he kept away from Meridell, though he could not escape the gossip that haunted him.

Except when he visited Mystery Island and studied under the Ghost Lupe, as he was now. Checking to make sure no one was watching, he disappeared into the woods of Mystery Island, to the deserted cave.

He felt the familiar presence, and turned to see the ghost standing there. Glowing in the dark, his mentor analyzed him carefully before saying, "You have come far from what you were."

The red lupe bowed his head in thanks, a small glow of happiness and pride burning bright.

"Your journey is one you must walk alone," the ghost said finally. "Your path is long, filled with the evils of the heart, but you should be able to withstand them."

The lupe blinked and looked up. "What?"

"You have reached the limits of my teaching. What you must learn now is not of words, but of the heart. Your path starts in Meridell." Then the ghost began to fade.

"Don't –!" the lupe cried, jumping to his feet and stepping forward.

The ghost gave a tiny twitch of his head, and the lupe obediently sat back down. "Take up the sword. Use the armor. And find your path in Meridell."

And then the Ghost Lupe was gone.

For a moment, he sat there forlornly, feeling adrift. Before it was Balthazar who gave him purpose, and then it was the Ghost Lupe who took over the guiding of his life. And now he was left without anyone. Left alone, as he had been before . . .

Determination stole onto him. He had the training now that he _could_ face his life alone, without needing anyone. And he wouldn't need anyone. He'd go to Meridell and help the villagers there. There was only so much Jeran could do alone, what with King Skarl ignoring the pleas of help in favor of watching that new dancer.

And he'd respected. Admired.

And maybe even cared about.

-

The little usul poked her neighbor – a gelert. "Hey. You're from Twin Plain village, right?"

The blue gelert turned around; they were in line at Illusen's Glade, getting their rations. "Yeah, why?"

The usul leaned closer to him. "Are the rumors true? Is there a new defender of Meridell, fighting like Jeran?"

The gelert's mouth formed an excited smile. "Yeah! A huge red lupe, with a shining sword that flashes in the light like a steel tooth! He just walked forward, and Kass's forces backed away! He has a scar on his cheek from Kass's blade himself, and Kass bears an identical scar . . ."

As the usul's eyes widened with admiration, an aisha across the refugee camp was whispering, "– and his sword is ten feet long, and when he steps, the earth shakes and Kass's forces run away . . ."

Deep in the woods, the lupe that had been embroidered into a legend lay tiredly against a tree trunk. A bloody bandage wrapped around his upper chest, and a long scratch adorned his left arm. Weak, exhausted, and more than a little discouraged, he sat there, staring at the trees that hid him and wreathed him in shadow.

The fight had pushed all of Skarl's forces to the edge of their endurance – having no reinforcements from their king, having the villagers they were saving unexpectedly turn upon them, and having to travel through battlefields tens of acres long, filled with the stench of the dead and the moans of the dying, took drastic toll on the moral.

He himself had not been exempt from such horrors; only, he would often have only his own company to brave these ordeals, and his moral was the lowest of the low. Fighting alone endangered his well-being and he stuck to the smaller villages to avoid attention. But not having companionship had struck him harder than he had first figured. Even when he was with Jhudora, he still was _around_ another being, and he could go out and be surrounded by other people as well. Balthazar had treated him well, taught him much, and cared for him in his own gruff way. The Ghost Lupe had mentored him, monitored him, taught him, and talked to him.

He heaved a sigh. Not only was he alone, he had no name. Even if he _was_ around someone else, he had nothing to mark him as unique. Nothing that called him, defined him, and that was what hurt the most.

_CRACK_.

All his muscles tensed, and he whipped the ghost's sword upwards. More likely than not, it was a scout for Kass's legions, and to kill it might warn away the force following it.

Standing, he picked up the shield and held it before him. The rest of the armor had not fit – he was unnaturally small, light, and the shield sufficed well enough by itself. Quietly, he stalked forward.

Only to come face to face with a soldier – one as hurt as he was. The blue aisha held a bow taut, pointed in his direction.

After a moment, he lowered the sword point. "Who do you fight for?" he asked wearily.

Hesitation only lasted a moment before the aisha said proudly, "Meridell and King Skarl!"

He slumped back against the tree trunk and slid back down. "Good. You're far from your troop."

Eyeing him curiously, the aisha asked, "Who are you?"

"A warrior," he said shortly.

The aisha slowly relaxed her body and sat down as well. "No, what's your name?"

Leveling an intense glare in the aisha's direction, he ignored her question to carefully pack up his pouch. "I'm needed elsewhere. The villages need protectors."

"Jeran's out there. They've sighted war-machines, with catapults and battering rams." The aisha shivered involuntarily. "I hope King Skarl gets our message soon."

About to snarl his thoughts on the worthless king who ignored the goings on in his own kingdom, he shut his mouth on the bitter comment and exchanged it for a note of encouragement. "Well, I know the villagers are eternally grateful to you, and I know that the message is closer to King Skarl than it has ever been."

Hopefully, the aisha looked up. "Really?"

"Sure," he replied, hiding the pain he felt as he hefted the sword and slid it into his special sheath – one that lay across his back to give him a better freedom of movement. '"All his troops will be honored, and stories will be told over and over about this war and the brave fighters who risked their lives endlessly." Bowing slightly, he said, "I honor your selflessness." And so saying so, he slid into the shadows, feeling better in helping at least one soldier to regain her spirit.

The village at the bottom of the hill had burned last night, but, thank the stars, he had managed to keep the damages to the minimum: only five houses had burned, and only twenty-two villagers had died. Stopping by the river, he splashed water over his face and gingerly repeated the motion over his wounds.

Sounds of a fight caught his attention, and his ears went up. Jumping to his feet, he ran towards the noises.

In a clearing he skidded to a stop. An Island ixi tried vainly to beat back an Eyrie Guard – and losing. Howling a battle cry, he barreled down on the eyrie and slammed it backwards.

It shrieked and whipped its sword around. Steel met steel in a thunderous clash, and then scraped away to jab under defenses and parry attacks. Within moments, the eyrie lay dead on the ground.

Panting, the lupe turned around and looked upon the ixi, who looked at him in slow recognition. "You . . . should . . . be more careful," the lupe panted.

"Don't you recognize me? Oh, the lab ray. I'm ZipStreamer! You're that lupe from Jhudora's cloud, right?" The ixi stood, wincing, and looked him up and down. "Where have you been?"

His heart clenched. "Me? Around," he answered vaguely.

"Why didn't you go to Fyora, or the Healing Springs? Or even Illusen?" ZipStreamer asked.

"I tried," he mumbled, sheathing his sword and slinging his shield onto his back as well.

ZipStreamer looked expectantly at him, but when he did not offer anymore information, the ixi tried a different route. "Found a name yet?"

"No," he growled. "Look, I need to go places and do things. Stay away from the battle; it's lost anyway. Skarl won't move off his throne to care for his subjects."

"You're still fighting," ZipStreamer pointed out. "And people are starting to join in. I think over half of Neopia have joined in to drive back Kass."

The lupe snorted. "Not doing a good job," he grumbled.

ZipStreamer shrugged. "I could take you back home; I'm sure Dhiibshowl will be glad to take you in. If you want."

He paused, considering it. A home, no more watching people die or having to actually kill himself, and getting a name. Everything he wanted.

But not what he needed to do.

"No," he said heavily. "The villagers need me here. Jeran does what he can, but he can't be everywhere at once, and the small villages are the ones most often destroyed. I'm just a faceless defender, and that's all I need to be."

ZipStreamer looked at him solemnly. "You're someone special, lupe. People owe their lives to you. _I_ owe my life to you."

Blushing from the praise, he waved a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. Just helping out where I can."

ZipStreamer opened his mouth, but the lupe turned and left him to find others who needed help.

Metal struck armor, slid down with a high-pitched whine, pulled away to slam into the other sword and then slide past shield to sink into flesh.

The lupe had grown hoarse long past from yells and shouts. Long past he had stopped feeling the pain from the numerous wounds that laced his being. Long past he had stopped being aware of anything besides the scent of death, sweat, fear, anger, and the forces that kept coming, unceasingly, overflowing the plains to overwhelm he and those that he fought beside.

It was the last chance. The last attack. Skarl had finally been awoken from his enrapture, thanks to Lisha's quick thinking, and had managed to recall his knights and major generals to plan an attack. Also helping out were the citizens of Neopia, who fought alongside Meridell's forces.

Another Darigan skeith rose up, tried to slash at him, and mechanically he dodged, rolled, came up slashing, and the skeith went down. He turned, slashed, ducked, rammed his sword forward, and turned around again.

The thunderstorm had tempered off, but it had lasted long enough to change the battlefield ground from dirt to mud. He was liberally splattered with it, as well as blood, and the mud made his wounds ache terribly, but he kept on. Had to keep on. It was the last chance to stop the forces of Kass; if this failed, Meridell's fate was sealed. So he had to keep on. Had to go on.

Sparks flew from the sky; Morguss's doing, no doubt. The main force was down here, on the ground, trying to stop the hordes of machines and fighters, but a light force had rode on to the Citadel, to confront Kass. Jeran had gone ahead, as had around a troop of light warriors. But he had been content to keep his feet firmly on the earth and fight for those who couldn't. Protect the villagers. That summed up his ambition, and he didn't have his sights set any higher. It was good enough for him.

He knew, in his heart of hearts, he would not survive. He had lost too much blood, too many cuts called his flesh home, and too much stress on said hurts had sapped him of whatever strength he had in reserve. Right now he was operating on automatic – sooner or later, he would fall over. And be trampled. And forgotten.

One who had no name.

Still, it hurt to know that. He had not named himself. He had not found the words to do so. And now it seemed there would be nothing that he left to even mark his passing.

Another warrior came. Another fell. He cut, sliced, hacked, and cleaved, limbs aching. When did he get that cut on his stomach? he wondered to himself, lost in the haze of exhaustion and battle-fever. Onwards. Step forwards, duck sideways. Bring the sword up – no, don't think about the pain in your arm – slide it into soft flesh. He felt like throwing up, only there was no time, no place, and nothing to throw up.

A brief, fleeting though: Would I meet Balthazar and have to fight against him?

And then he knew no more.

ZipStreamer came into focus, but not really. His eyes were open, but they wouldn't see right. Everything was blurry, running together, mixing together . . .

"Hold on, we're trying to get you to Illusen. Hold on, we're almost there."

He tried to move, tried to make his voice work, but he could not. Strong arms held him gently, deposited him on a bed of soft moss. He lay there, letting his mind sink into oblivion.

"Is he going to be alright?"

A new voice, soft and quiet, answered, "No. He is too damaged, has lost too much blood. The most we can do is make him comfortable. There are others who need help."

And then ZipStreamer was by his side, trying to keep tears from showing. "You were amazing, you know. I think they'll sing praises for the next century. The villagers are as awed of you as they are of Jeran."

"Did we . . . win?" he managed to force out of his throat.

"Yeah," ZipStreamer looked up.

A young acara stood there, with a shoyru and gelert behind her. "Is this the Red Lupe?"

He moved his head, turned to look at them. He vaguely recognized them; the three had lived in Meadow Plain village. Weakly, he smiled at them.

"Thank you, Red Lupe," the acara whispered, placing a flower by his head. And then they left.

ZipStreamer smiled gently. "You have a name now, Red Lupe. You made yourself faceless, and they still honor you."

"You . . . alright?" he said hoarsely, consciousness slipping away.

"Yeah," ZipStreamer held his hand. "I'm fine."

"Good."

And then he left, happy in the knowledge that he had managed to help.

Never did the Red Lupe's name grow larger than it had. Very few knew of the selflessness and courage, and only two knew of the whole story. And after a year of searching, ZipStreamer's owner, Dhiibshowl, found a brief record of a red lupe with the name of Samiel before it had been abandoned. No further records have been found.

And though his fame never grew, neither did it wane. Still, in villages on the outskirts of Meridell, you can hear legends of a red lupe who helped protect the villagers, who wielded a sword of silver lightning and struck fear into Kass's forces.

And walked alone from the very beginning until the very end.

As he wished it to be.


End file.
